Abba

I heard her sleeper-ed feet sliding across the wood floor, soft aches for a momma’s touch. I paused.

I waited.

Nothing.

Somewhere along the way she turned back. Somewhere along the way she broke my heart.

I went to go check, thinking perhaps I had just imagined the soft feet, the aching heart, the silent push then retreat.

I caught her tail end climbing back into bed and I knew.

She had come looking for me.

I asked her soft if she was okay. “Yeah,” she said in her quiet way.

“Did you get out of bed?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said again.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

I took that Little Bit in my arms and I hugged her tight, and my heart broke in half and I told her that she was okay, she was always welcome to get me, that’s why I’m here.

That’s when I felt the moisture on my cheek. She was bleeding.

I carried her to the bathroom and we looked at her nose bleed and I ran the hot water and we cleaned it up and all the while I was hoping that gentle touches were communicating things that words never could.

What an amazing picture you have written here. My heart aches for 2 reasons … 1, I am the child and 2) I am the parent who doesn’t represent the loving God to my own children. Thanks for these gentle words!